It's an imagined letter from a Mystic Meg-type to a jaded cynic, informing them that "love lurks for you behind the bushes". Illustrated with a broken fortune cookie and "fortune" as the title of the piece. Like The Beast and Me, the letter mentions Walthamstow in the line "waiting to pounce as you take your beagle for a walk through Walthamstow marshes". The text reads:
Fortunate Cookie Predicts Pavement Proposal
So, you think you have it sussed. Little do you know that love lurks for you behind the bushes, waiting to pounce as you take your beagle for a walk through Walthamstow marshes.
Like a child abductor. Like the lottery roll-over.
Tomorrow a man will propose to you on the highstreet. A down-on-one-knee ambush interceptng your meander to Asdaf or four pints of milk. Will you step over him like dog shit? Or not? (Four pints of milk and a bottle of Brut in your shopping basket.)